


Days Like Today

by literal_trashbaby



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All aboard the Feels train, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Keith is a Tsundere, M/M, Suffer(tm) with me, i swear it ends nicely just bear with me here, klangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literal_trashbaby/pseuds/literal_trashbaby
Summary: For all Lance’s snarking and posturing, all that easy, cheery confidence, for all his charm and his pretty, pretty smiles (which absolutely did not make Keith a little weak in the knees, no sir).Just every now and then, Keith thought his smile would go just a tiny bit tight around the edges, and he’d go just a little quiet… well, quiet for Lance.And on the days when Lance was just that little bit… Not-Lance, like a force of nature he would, without fail, pull one side of his lower lip into his mouth and just chew on it, destroying those poor, perfect lips.Days like today. OR:Lance is Having a Day and Keith is somehow the only person to notice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> in which i use fictional characters as a way to deal with my own bullshit *finger guns*

            People had often said of Keith- even to his face, on occasion- that he was… well, ‘oblivious’ and ‘bad with people’ were some of the more tactful phrases used. They got more colorful as the years went on, and as he spent less (and less and less) effort on people-pleasing-- after all, why should he?-- so he supposed that as much as he would like to, he couldn’t even really argue.

            And yet, he had learned a surprising amount about his fellow Paladins, Coran, and Allura. He guessed that floating through space and risking his life almost daily with the exact same six people (who he was even starting to really _like_ ) for weeks and months would do that.

            For example, the fact that Coran spoke to the ship when doing repairs didn’t remotely surprise Keith, but he had to admit he was always slightly unnerved when Coran acted like the ship was speaking _back._ Allura seemed to have a weakness for all things small and furry and had to be talked down by Shiro or Coran from keeping any rodentia she discovered on whatever planet they happened to be on. Shiro mussed up his hair when overtired or focused on menial tasks. Hunk stress-baked and had a habit of humming to himself while he worked in the kitchen. The time Hunk managed to synthesize the best damn peanut butter cookies any of them had ever tasted and they had disappeared _unnaturally_ quickly, Keith had found a truly _improbable_ number of crumbs in Green’s bay that evening and re-evaluated his ideas of just how much a kid Pidge’s size could reasonably be expected to hold.

And Lance.

            There were all the little things- the way he would twiddle his headphone cord in one hand and his pencil in the other when working on a puzzle (Keith had been sure it was some cosmic mistake when he discovered that Lance did high-level Sudoku and carried a little book of them in his bag); or the way he would flash a sweet, puppy-like smile at someone after teasing them that said just as clearly as words did “just a joke, man- we still cool?”; or the way, whenever Pidge was clambering over obstacles or up Green’s flank like a damn monkey, Lance would automatically put out a practiced hand in a way that spoke clearly of catching many a falling sibling from an ill-advised climb. The more time went on, the more tiny details Lance accidentally revealed about the boy beneath the bravado, and Keith was starting to think if he found many more he’d have to start an alphabetized list.

            Not that he had been watching Lance _especially_ , of course.

            But for all Lance’s snarking and posturing, all that easy, cheery confidence, for all his charm and his pretty, _pretty_ smiles (which absolutely _did not_ make Keith a little weak in the knees, no sir).

            Just every now and then, Keith thought his smile would go just a tiny bit tight around the edges, and he’d go just a little quiet… well, quiet for Lance.

            And on the days when Lance was just that little bit… Not-Lance, like a force of nature he would, _without fail_ , pull one side of his lower lip into his mouth and just _chew_ on it, destroying those poor, perfect lips.

 

            Days like today.

 

            Keith watched Lance in silence as the Blue Paladin laid out cards in what Keith could only assume was meant to be an approximation of solitaire (since the deck was an Altean one they had found in the rec room and they hadn’t quite figured out… any of it, actually).

            Keith had been polishing his helmet in the lounge when Lance had wandered in. They had stared at each other for a beat, surprised, before Lance just shrugged and sat down wordlessly next to Keith.

            Which had struck Keith as Odd.

            Sure enough, within minutes, there were Lance’s teeth, attacking his poor lip. And it was _not okay_.

 

            Now here they were, Lance absentmindedly shuffling cards around as he slowly demolished his lip, and Keith just watching him, his helmet forgotten on the seat.

            He couldn’t stand it anymore.

            “Lance.”

            “Hmm?”

            “ _Stop_.”

            Lance glanced up at Keith, surprised to see his dark brows knitted together in… was that supposed to be concern? Honestly, he just looked kinda constipated.

            “Stop what?” Lance arched an eyebrow quizzically. “I’m literally not doing anything.”

            “You’re chewing a hole straight through your lip.” Keith pointed out- literally pointing, since Lance seemed genuinely confused and offended by this information.

            “Am not.”

The effect was slightly dampened by the fact that he had to first release his lip from his canines to say it, and doubly so when he sucked it back between his teeth promptly after speaking.

            “You _are_. Don’t you even realize you’re doing it?” Keith huffed, watching with mounting concern as Lance continued to worry at his lip, which was now getting red and swollen and showing definite signs of splitting. “Jeez, isn’t that _painful?_ ”

            Before either of them could react, before Keith even realized he was doing it, he had reached up and gently rubbed his thumb across Lance’s lower lip, coaxing it from between his teeth.

            Lance froze first, staring wide-eyed at Keith.

            “Uh.”

            Keith then realized his mistake, freezing second.

            “Oh.”

            They stared at each other, both frozen. Keith’s palm still cradled Lance’s jaw, thumb frozen mid-sweep across his abused lip.

            Lance’s unfortunate, abused, yet somehow still _gloriously soft_ lip.

            “ _Uh._ ”

            Keith flinched his hand away just a smidge too quickly to play off as casual (and had to consciously stop himself from cradling it against his chest- good god in heaven, Keith’s poor little heart had _not_ been prepared for those lips).

            They stared at each other a few more beats, the yawning silence broken only by Keith’s mounting heartbeat. He hoped Lance couldn’t hear it, or notice the way it stuttered when Lance further parted his ( _perfect_ ) lips to speak.

            “Bro, what-”

            The electric door broke the spell with a _whoosh_ , allowing Hunk and Pidge in and bringing their incomprehensible technobabble with them as Lance and Keith instinctively scrambled back to their activities.

            Neither seemed to breathe as the two newcomers shuffled through the room on their way to, through, and from the kitchen, pausing their conversation just long enough to throw a greeting towards Keith and Lance. Only once did Keith dare to steal a glance at Lance, bouncing his eyes _immediately_ back to his (now gleaming) helmet when he found Lance already staring at him out of the corner of his eye. At least he finally seemed to be leaving his lips alone. Momentarily, anyway.

            Keith wasn’t sticking around to verify.

            Almost the second the door closed behind Hunk and Pidge, Keith gathered his things and shoved them almost vengefully under one arm, biting out a hasty farewell and all but sprinting from the room before Lance could properly articulate a response.

~~

 

            Needless to say, the rest of the day was… awkward.

            Keith barely left his room (not that he was _hiding_ or anything, he just- okay yeah he was definitely hiding), but _every time he did_ he somehow ran into Lance: hallway, kitchen, wherever Keith was going, there Lance was also. He couldn’t even say it was on purpose, since every time it happened Lance looked just as surprised (though probably less spooked) as Keith, his mouth falling open slightly before he rebalanced and made some greeting. Sometimes Keith was able to return it, other times… less so.

            The worst part was, every time he saw Lance, his lip looked worse and worse.

            Not that Keith was making a habit of staring at Lance’s lips.

            Of course.

 

            Try as Keith might during the day, however, avoiding Lance at supper was a complete impossibility. Horrifying as Coran’s space goo was, he would pout for _days_ if he thought the Paladins were avoiding his cooking, so skipping was out (Keith abstractly hoped that Hunk had at least been able to work his magic and bring the food somewhere within the vicinity of palatable). And since he and Lance somehow _always_ wound up sitting next to each other (Keith was starting to wonder if it was even accidental anymore), it would be weird if they sat separately today, right? So Keith sat down at his usual seat, silently relieved Lance wasn’t there yet (thereby taking the final decision out of Keith’s hands), and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding when Lance sat next to him as always.

 

            Despite his initial relief, dinner was an uncomfortable affair.

            While the cheery, oblivious chatter filled the air around them, and they spoke pleasantly enough with the others (or Lance did, anyway), Keith and Lance exchanged maybe five words with each other. The most meaningful interaction they had was in sideways looks, starting and dropping their eyes back to their plates whenever they caught each other’s gaze. Four times exactly (Keith was counting), he shot Lance a particularly nasty sideways glare and Lance jumped, his lip popping from between his teeth guiltily.

            Altogether an excruciating experience. And one Keith was only too glad to leave as soon as it was passably polite.

            He didn’t even look at Lance in passing as he grabbed his jacket and left the table.

~~

 

            Later- was it minutes? Hours? - Keith was locked in a battle training sim, working out his frustration on the Gladiator. It was much easier to think about nothing in a fight, which somehow seemed to offer everything else some kind of clarity.

            All Keith wanted to do was forget today ever happened.

            Forget the quiet tension underlining all of Lance’s expressions and interactions today.

            Forget about teeth quietly and steadily tearing holes into smooth lips.

            Forget that _embarrassing_ scene in the lounge, and how he ran out after.

            Forget the softness of Lance’s lip against Keith’s calloused fingertips, forget those lake blue eyes staring into his with an expression Keith didn’t dare analyze or put a name to.

            Whatever. Forget all of it. If Lance wanted to tear his pristine lips all to pieces, let him. It wasn’t any of Keith’s business.

He would choose to forget.  
            A twist of the wrist and a vengeful thrust, and the Gladiator collapsed, disarmed and broken. Keith stood over its pixelating form, breathing heavily.

            Forget all of it, so they could just go back to normal. If this new squeezy thing his heart did whenever Lance bit his lips was part of the new ‘normal,’ Keith would learn to live with it.

            Even if it hurt a little.

            He rolled his shoulders and neck, earning a satisfying series of cracks, and shook out his arms in preparation for the next round. Before he could re-start the sim, however, the door to the training deck opened and Lance stepped in, stopping short when he looked up and their eyes met.  
            “Oh.”

            Keith just stared like a deer in headlights, except that at least a deer had the _option_ to run. With Lance blocking the only exit, Keith was feeling a little more like a trapped rat.

            “…Sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Lance pasted on what should have been a reassuring grin, except that it made Keith’s heart do the squeezy thing. “I’ll just come back later.” He turned to step out, and for some reason Keith’s heart almost stopped.

            “No, wait!”

            Lance paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder in surprise, teeth frozen on his lip.

            “It’s fine. Stay,” Keith floundered, distinctly glad he had just finished a fight and therefore had an excuse for being out of breath. “We could… tackle the Gladiator together. Or something.”

            Lance deliberated for a moment, sizing Keith (who was _very aware_ that he was a sweaty mess in his tanktop and shitty ponytail) up, then shrugged and stepped a few paces back into the room, allowing the door to close behind him. “Whatever floats your boat.”

            “Okay, great. Got your Bayard?” Keith trotted forward, closing the distance slightly. He couldn’t have explained the hopeful smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth if he wanted to.

            “No, I thought I would pick a fight with a scary robot _completely unarmed_.” Lance snarked with a flicker of his usual cheer, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it into a corner with Keith’s and pulling out his Bayard.

            Keith was so relieved to see a natural smile on Lance that he didn’t even argue, just called up the simulation.

~~

 

            An hour or two later, they both slumped against the wall, breathing heavily after their third match.  
            “Sharp work, samurai.”  
            “You too. That last shot was a real stunner.”

            Lance chuckled, leaning his head back.

            “Lance?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Can we talk?” Keith cringed. _Awkward._

            Lance scoffed, turning his face away slightly. “You avoid me all day, and _now_ you wanna talk?”

            Keith flinched internally at the slight edge to Lance’s voice, _wishing_ he could argue but knowing full-well he couldn’t. “Well, I’m here now,” he pouted, “so… talk to me?”

            Lance threw Keith an appraising glance. “I’m-” he bit his lip momentarily, squeezing his eyes shut, “-fine.” It was barely even a hitch, and there was Lance’s smile. If Keith hadn’t been so hyperaware of Lance all day, he might have missed it. “Just a little tired, is all.” Lance allowed, catching Keith’s (impressively) furrowed brow.

            “Lance.” (A barely perceptible wince.) “I know I’m not… _the most_ observant,” Keith began, staring at his boots. “I know I… well, I can get my head stuck up my own ass sometimes and miss important things, or get myself into trouble.” He lifted his gaze back up to meet Lance’s, direct and unblinking. “But I’m not _blind._ Maybe you’re fooling the others, but you haven’t fooled me. Something’s wrong, and we both know it.” His demeanor softened, and his hand fluttered half out of his lap as if reaching out to wipe away the shocked expression on Lance’s face. “But it’s just us in here, so please… won’t you tell me?”

            Lance wavered, teetering on the edge of a decision and deciding which way to fall. Neither Paladin moved. Keith kept his gaze, open and hopeful and uncommonly tender, on Lance’s tight face, convinced it might shatter if he looked away. At some point he had turned himself bodily towards Lance, as if to say “look, here I am. I’ll catch you.”

            Finally Lance let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and leaning forward to tuck his forehead into Keith’s shoulder before choking out, in the most heartbreakingly strangled voice Keith thought he’d ever heard, “It has been a _Day_ , my guy.”

            And it all came pouring out- Lance’s homesickness and the fear that he would never be able to see his family again, or worse- that he would be unable to protect them, that Zarkon would somehow beat them to Earth; his deep-seated fear that he didn’t deserve to be a Paladin, that he was not and would never, ever be good enough.

            Keith stayed silent through it all, gently stroking Lance’s hair and allowing the tears to collect on his shoulder, his free hand holding the shaking ones Lance had twisted into fists on the floor between them. His heart and throat both felt tight, desperate to stop the almost-silent sobs wracking the trembling body of the boy in Keith’s arms.

            Eventually the choked-out sobs subsided to the occasional hiccup, and the hiccups faded to deep, shaky breaths. Keith filled his lungs to steady himself.

            “Lance,” he murmured, “can you listen to me now?” Lance sniffed deeply, then straightened his back to sit back up; though his head still drooped forward and his red-rimmed eyes stared dully at the floor. Keith noticed with a slight hitch in his breath that Lance’s eyelashes, lowered until they almost pressed against his cheekbones, were visibly wet. At Keith’s gentle ‘look at me?’ Lance finally lifted his gaze to meet Keith’s, open and vulnerable. Keith leaned forward to look him in the eye and gave Lance’s hands a squeeze. “Lance, I want you to understand something.

            “You _are_ good enough. You are far smarter and more kind than you let on and selfless to a fault. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you miss a single shot in a fight, and you always come through for us. Out of everyone at Garrison- no, everyone in the world, _Blue chose you._ It has to be you. You are _meant_ to be here. You will _always_ be good enough. You aren’t alone; you don’t have to do it all by yourself, because all of us are here with you. We’re gonna stop Zarkon, _together_ , and then I promise, when all this is over we’re gonna go home and you’ll see your family again. I’ll take you there _myself_ if I have to. I promise.” Keith smiled softly. “Okay?”

            Lance opened his mouth, but all that came out was a slight squeak so he closed it, ducked his head, and nodded, looking like he might cry again.

            After a moment to compose himself he sniffed loudly, rubbed at his eyes, and stood up, Keith following him.

            “I, uh,” Lance cleared his throat awkwardly, not meeting Keith’s eyes. “Thanks.”

            Keith stared at Lance’s profile for a minute.

            And then he reached up and patted Lance’s head.

            Lance froze, wide eyes staring straight ahead in shock. Keith ruffled Lance’s hair, adding little pats and letting his fingers play with the tawny mess. It was unexpectedly pleasant.

            Someday he would have to work on his impulse control, but in that moment he decided it would not be this day.

            Lance slowly turned to Keith, face a mask of incredulity. He had yet to smack Keith’s hand away, so Keith simply stared back, chin jutting, eyebrows scrunched in defiance and free hand on his hip, _daring_ Lance to do something about it.

            They stared each other down for what must have been a solid minute, Keith absently petting Lance’s hair the whole time.

            Finally, Lance’s face melted into a pure grin and he laughed, eyes squeezing shut in mirth.  
            “Yeah, okay.”

            Lance leaned just the slightest bit into Keith’s palm, tension unwinding from his entire body and a relaxed smile settling across his face.

Keith’s heart fluttered right out of his chest and straight up to heaven.

 

            As they were leaving the training deck, jackets slung over their shoulders, Lance laid a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder.

            “Really, Keith… thank you.” His smile was the warmest and most honest Keith thought he’d ever seen it.

            He wanted to drink it in forever.

            Instead, he playfully shoved Lance’s shoulder, his face hitching into a roguish grin.

            “What else are partners for?”

            Lance was cackling too much for his retaliatory shove to carry much force, their combined laughter bouncing down the castle halls.


End file.
